Page 15 of Forced Prisoner By the Bratva

“Make a wish,” I said, tracing her gaze to the shooting star.

With one hand in my pocket, I approached her and leaned against the polished handrail.

Tessa turned her gaze to my face, her expression softening just a bit. “If I did, I’d be a million miles away from you, trust me,” she replied, meeting my eyes, a flicker of sincerity shining in their depths.

“Fair enough,” I muttered, turning to cast my gaze across the city unfolding before me. “But the reality is, we're stuck with each other,” I added without looking in her direction.

She took a deep breath, stepping closer, her heels clicking against the floor. “And you're okay with that? Is that what you want?” she asked, her tone tinged with exhaustion.

I turned back to face her, my voice calm and smooth. “It doesn't matter what I want, Tessa. It is what it is.”

She scoffed, her manicured fingers rubbing her eyes. “Well, I'm not on board with this arrangement; in fact, I hate it,” she blurted out, her voice indignant. “You wanna know the truth, Erik? This isn't gonna work.”

“You don't get it, do you?” I began, maintaining my calm demeanor. “It's not meant to ‘work’.” I air-quoted the word. “It's meant to stabilize and strengthen both our families. It just so happens that we're the—”

“Sacrificial lambs?” she cut me off, her brows arched.

I hesitated for a moment, holding her intense gaze. “For lack of a better word, yes.”

She let out a dismissive scoff. “You're sick…all of you.” The slight pause came when she paced back and forth with slow steps.

“Maybe,” I said, leaning my back against the handrail. I kept my gaze fixed on her. “Or maybe we're just loyal to our course and willing to do whatever it takes to stand up for what we believe in.” My lips curled into a sly grin as I spoke, my voice calm yet dripping with condescension. “From the way it looks, you're not familiar with that concept, are you?”

Her eyes narrowed, forming faint creases between her brows as she glared at me. My remark had stung her like a bee.

In my defense, she’d started it during our last conversation when she said my family lacked honor. Her words had lingered since that night, and I'd waited patiently for the best time to retaliate.

Her expression darkened momentarily before her eyes widened slightly, as if a light bulb had gone off in her head. “I have an idea,” she said, a faint grin tugging at the corners of her lips.

I arched my brows, curious to find out what she'd cooked up. “Humor me.”

“Okay, so my brother is supposed to marry Zoya, right?”

“Yes, but she's not of age. Their union isn’t due for two years,” I replied, a bit dismissive.

But obviously, she hadn't even made her proposal yet.

“Hear me out,” she began, drawing closer, her voice falling to a soft whisper. “Since we both know this isn't going to work and the plan is to strengthen both our families, why not do it this way? We stay married for two years until Zoya's mature enough to be my brother's wife.”

I squinted, realizing where she was going with this.

“In the meantime, I'll be yours; I'll do my part, be your wife, and fulfill whatever role is expected of me,” she explained, her eyes locked onto mine. “But the moment Liam and Zoya get married, we’ll divorce.” She paused, anticipating my response. “This way, we'll kill two birds with one stone; our families will get what they want, and so will we. In the end, it's a win-win.”

Initially, I thought it wouldn't make sense, but after exploring the idea further, I realized that it might actually work. Two years was sufficient to cement our control over the Irish territory and secure the success of our alliance.

Although the Russian tradition frowned upon divorce, her suggestion was a strategic decision. Unlike Zoya's and Liam's engagement, ours wasn't based on sentiment or tradition. Letting her go once the alliance was secured was smarter than risking everything with an unhappy partnership.

This would work if we both played our parts well. Her plan was a clean exit we could take after the goal of our marriage was achieved.

My lips curled into a sly grin as I stepped forward and extended my hand. “Fine. But until then, you're my wife in every sense of the word.” My eyes wandered over her incredible body. “Deal?”

She drew a deep breath, her chest heaving slowly as she took my hand, sealing our fates. “Deal.”

Chapter 7 – Tessa

The alarm clock perched on the bedside table wouldn’t shut up. I'd snoozed the damn thing three times already, but it kept buzzing after every five minutes.

My eyes fluttered open, awakened not only by the alarm clock but also by the cacophony of sounds emanating from the bustling household. I clenched my jaw, seething silently at the clinking of dishes and the murmur of muffled conversations outside my door that blended together to create a chaotic symphony.

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